I have decided that my dream job would be to act on Sesame Street. Not as a puppet, but as one of the real people who live in the cool, brick apartments and hang out with Elmo and Cookie Monster all day. And sing/dance with all the musicians and actors who visit the neighborhood. If you have a young child, you know exactly what I'm referring to. Like that "1, 2, 3, 4 chickens just back from the shore!" jam. Or the episode where 3 of the monsters become robots that transform into shapes, all while two human guys dance in the background. Please tell me that I'm not the only one...
Along those same lines, Chris and I have realized that we are old. Our wild nights consist of jamming to Fresh Beat Band DVDs with our two year old (is it sick that we know all the songs?!) and having a beer in our pajamas (if we don't fall asleep first). Or, instead of going out, we play hide and seek with our son and run laps around the downstairs. He tells us where to hide and then squeals with delight when he "finds" us. Sometimes I get more laughs from watching him than I would from being around other adults.
I love where we live. I grew up in Columbia- not exactly a big city, but also not the country. Growing up, I assumed that we owned "tons" of land. Then I met Christopher. And I visited his mama's house. Holy moly. It's cool that we have shopping and grocery stores galore very nearby, but we also have wild animals roaming around and room for my son to ride. Chris came in today and informed me that there was a dead deer in the backyard. He went on to tell me that Petey was covered in blood, so "don't let him in the house cause I don't wanna clean that up". Um, okay. Ten years ago, I would have cried and freaked out....a DEAD animal? Blood all over my dog?! But, living with a hunter and 3 large dogs, I have quickly learned that animals have instincts and things die. I've also learned to appreciate that my dogs have a fierce desire to protect the line between our home and the rest of the world. If something crosses that line, good luck to it.
Christmas shopping is a different adventure nowadays. With a two year old boy and a fussy infant, going to peruse the aisles at Target is no longer a leisurely activity. Exciting, yes, but not the thrill that I used to get out of finding a cute outfit or the perfect gift for someone. Nope, now it consists of:
1. creating my grocery list to coincide with the aisles at the store. I list my produce first, then canned goods, and milk products last. Is it sad that I know the layout of the store?!
2. grabbing a shirt quickly as I push past it- the clothes that I get to look at are usually on sale and next to the aisle. I'll try it on later. And if I need to return it? No problem. I'll be back in a few days for more diapers or formula :)
3. Keeping my kiddos happy and as quiet as possible. At times, I give up this goal while my son sings, squeals, or talks to every lady in sight.
Finally, having Chamblee has made me appreciate and admire Trafton in a different way. I now see him in a whole new light. He is still my firstborn, my baby. But he's growing up and he is a fabulous big brother. I could hold him and nuzzle his chubby cheeks all day long. But, at the same time, I know that I can ask him to help me around the house. He is talking up a storm, and I feel an even deeper connection with him now that we can communicate verbally. Some of his newest words:
Peas (Please)
Tank Ku (Thank you)
(He knew and used these in sign language before, but now he is saying them.)
Okay
Nah Nacks (Fruit snacks)
All Ton (All done)
Yeyow (Yellow)
Regos (Legos)
The other day, Chamblee was especially fussy and we were loading things up to go run errands. (We have so many bags, coolers, etc. that it looks like going on vacation. While Chris and I were busy running around, she quieted down in her car seat. We looked over, and big brother had given her the paci. He was rocking the car seat and saying "Hey Bebe, Heeeeyyyy!" in his sweet voice. I am one blessed mama.
No comments:
Post a Comment